


Somewhere between sleep and dreams

by Chaotic_Eclipse



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I still don't know how to write tagsfor things, Rating May Change, drabbles forever, headcanons forever, more ships incoming, tags will change as i write more, widowmaker is so broken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7890478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaotic_Eclipse/pseuds/Chaotic_Eclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are some people you shouldn't get close to...but you do anyway."</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>A collection of drabbles that hit me randomly so I write them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There's no rhyme or reason to why they do this, no thought behind these clandestine meetings. No words exchanged, expressions and actions saying everything that needs to be. Lips press to the tips of fingers -- callused from the constant pull of a trigger -- then down to a palm, worn by leather, cables and constant war. 

" _Must violence always be the answer?_ " She remembers asking as they stood -- she stood, anyway, her companion was at a crouch, peering through her scope -- together atop a roof. She watched as the other woman looked up, a slender eyebrow raising as amusement flickered over her features like a candle's flame.

" _It is all I am good at._ " It wasn't the answer she sought and it brought an old pain to the surface of her skin, her fingers tightening around her staff as her partner -- temporary, it always got under her skin when they had to work with Talon like this -- turned back to watching for their opponents. 

Her thoughts switch back to the present when her fingers run over raw scar tissue, eyes focusing in the dim light to see the healed wounds around the other's wrists and for a second blue met gold, her breath catching in her throat at the pain in her partner's eyes. She almost spoke then, almost broke their wordless agreement, but she was silenced by cooler lips suddenly upon her own.

Perhaps it was better she didn't ask.


	2. Chapter 2

It was ironic that their little game had brought her here, to the last place she'd ever believed she'd set foot in again. It was here that they stood, her contemplating the ruins of the religious statue before her and her companion studying her back like it told a story she wouldn't.

Here in this place that held hazy memories of warmth and laughter from a life Widowmaker had long been forced to leave behind. Yet the longer she stood, the longer she lingered and traced the structure over and over in her mind the clearer the image became. For a precious moment she lived in that life she abandoned again, stood in the place of the woman she was.

Then it was gone in the blink of an eye, shattered and scattered away on the breeze that disturbed the dust collected on the surfaces around her. This place had been long abandoned but she found that churches -- and religion as a whole -- were much like the mythical hydra. Leave one to decay and others would quickly replace it.

Widowmaker was far from a religious woman -- much like the church she stood in -- having left behind her faith in a deity the moment she was subjected to the life she'd been recreated to live. Amélie had once asked how a kind and loving God could leave it's children to suffer.

The question still didn't have an answer to this day.

"Do you hate me?" Her voice sounded too loud in the still air, sounding hollow and out of place. She was slow to turn to the woman who stood feet behind her, smiling thinly at the rifle leveled on her.

"I hate what you became."

It was an interesting response, but Widowmaker didn't fault the older woman for it. She knew Ana in her past life, just as well as Ana knew her...and through the choices of forces out of their control, they'd gone from something like family to a bitter rivalry.

Albeit, perhaps onesidedly.

"Angela wants you home, Amélie. _I want you home_...this -- none of this was your fault, we get that, but we can't help you if you won't let us."

Amélie had once asked how a kind and loving God could leave it's children to suffer.

Widowmaker had discovered the answer: _It had given humanity the tools to cope._


End file.
